


When In Chicago...

by Seascribe



Series: Lingua Franca [2]
Category: The Eagle | Eagle of the Ninth (2011), due South
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Donuts, Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 08:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seascribe/pseuds/Seascribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cub has never had a donut, but Dief had told him all about them. Donuts, Cub thinks, sound even better than honeycakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When In Chicago...

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to a fic I mostly haven't written yet, a crossover with The Eagle of the Ninth, in which Fraser, RayK, and Dief accidentally time travel back to Roman Britain.

"It worked! Fraser, we're back!" Ray reaches over and flicks the lights on and off, an expression of ecstasy on his face. "Electricity! Coffee! Cars! Shit, how long were we missing? They better not have towed my car--" 

Like Ray, Fraser is glad to be back in 20th century Chicago, where there is penicillin, a stable democratic government, and hockey. 

Dief yips, and Fraser says, "We have rather more pressing concerns right now than your sugar addiction, Diefenbaker. No donuts yet." There is a sad answering whine, in a decidedly archaic and unfamiliar dialect. "Oh dear." 

*  
Cub didn’t mean to come with Dief and his pack, but there was a flash of light and now he's in an unfamiliar place, with too many loud noises that make his ears hurt. There are so many smells, _overwhelming-strange-confusing-_ , and Cub feels the sudden urge to cower and whimper like a puppy.

 _I’m hungry! Let’s get donuts!_ Dief slavers, wagging his tail at Cub. _It’s been days and days and days and no donuts. Ben! Ben! Ben!_

Cub is hungry too. He’s never had a donut, but Dief had told him all about them--and pizza and pretzels and hot dogs--when he and his pack had accidentally come to Cub’s territory. Donuts, Cub thinks, sound even better than honeycakes. He can’t wait to try one!

It is hard to understand Dief’s humans, but Cub hears “no donuts,” _impatient-tired-grumpy_. That’s not fair! He didn’t want to come here, far away from his pack, and the least they could do is feed him. 

_But I want to try donuts!_ Cub tells Ben, Dief's human who smells like leather and wool and pine trees. _And pizza and pretzels and hot dogs!_

Dief's other human, the spiky one who smells like smoke and metal and things Cub has no names for, takes his side. At least, Cub thinks so. Ray is even harder than Ben to understand. He says something fast-fast-fast, making faces and talking with his hands.

 _Ray always gives donuts,_ Dief explains, grinning up at his spiky human. 

Ben protests--"wild animals, Ray--unhealthy,"--but Cub can tell that he doesn't mean it. Ben smells _amused-happy-playful_ just like Marcus when he is pretending to argue with Cub's other humans. 

Cub follows Dief and his humans into their metal wagon that goes without horses, watching the so-tall buildings go by flash-flash-flash and feels a little sick. But it gets better when they stop and Ray goes away and comes back with a box that smells like-- _donuts,_ Dief says, and Cub thinks that donuts smell better than _anything_. Then there are stairs, up and up and up, into a place that smells like Dief and food and home, _content-safe-comfortable._ It makes Cub miss his pack, running on the hunt, sleeping warm by the fire, playing with the human pup. 

But then Ray opens the box and tosses Cub and Dief each a donut. It makes a little cloud-puff, like the dust behind a running hare, and Cub sneezes. The donut is gone in two bites, and Cub's mouth waters for more.

 _Donuts are much better than honeycakes,_ Cub says, licking his chops. _I want another!_ He says this to Ray, wagging his tail persuasively. Ray laughs and puts the box up where Cub and Dief can't reach.

"After dinner, wolf."

 _Dinner is pizza!_ Dief explains happily, and over on the other side of the room, Ben sighs. 

Pizza, Cub discovers a little while later, is not as quite as wonderful as donuts, but it is still very, very good. He eats three whole slices and another donut, and then, when Ben and Ray sit down to watch the noisy colour-box, Cub discovers that he and Dief are allowed to sit with them on the soft not-a-bed. It is even more comfortable than lying on the rug in front of the hearth.

Cub puts his chin on Ray's knee, feeling _full-sleepy-happy_ as Ray scritches his fingers through the fur behind Cub's ears. He still wants to go home to his pack, longs to hear their voices, even though they don't have any donuts or pizza, but he doesn't mind staying with Dief and his humans for a little while. This place is a good place, even though it isn't home.

 _Tomorrow,_ Dief says, _we hunt mean-dangerous-no-law men._

Cub lifts his upper lip in a grin. He can help with that. When he falls asleep, Cub dreams of his pack and the hunt and donuts.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic owes a stylistic debt to several other Dief-POV fics, among them [Day in the Life](http://ds-flashfiction.livejournal.com/290833.html) and [the Numerical series.](http://archiveofourown.org/series/3588)


End file.
